


Those Few Moments, Between

by Lioness25



Category: Halo
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Reflections on Life and Death, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lioness25/pseuds/Lioness25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>''Life is never certain, I suppose. It never has been.''</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Few Moments, Between

 

 

 

Life is never certain, I suppose. It never has been. But when you are a soldier, waging a war against an implacable enemy…that sensation, that uncertainty is only exquisitely enhanced. Every moment could be your last.

I’ve long since lost the fear of death. We all have. It will come for us, as it does to all mortal creatures. I am no different. I can only wish that it will be one of my choosing. An honorable death…one that matters.

Since I was six years old, I have been trained to be a soldier. And I have been fighting in this war since I was fourteen. And now that I am nearing forty-one, after decades of the same struggle and conflict I find myself at times fighting another, more sinister enemy: doubt.

That bleak darkness that lives in the souls of all humans. That rises up to destroy you when you are at your most vulnerable; rotting you from within.

To keep it at bay, I have learned to live for the little moments. Those few seconds between the missions; between the hail of shells, the blistering finality of plasma bolts. These are the moments when I can remind myself—often with his help—that I am still human. That I am still a woman…and that love still exists in my heart.

The engines vibrate dully through the deckplates, reverberating against our magnetized boots. There are five of us. We are Blue Team. The elite of the UNSC; or so we are told; Spartan’s aren’t always very popular with the other outfits and types of troops.

We are outcasts. Feared, revered; tasked with standing as an impermeable shield between humanity’s annihilation.

Yet today…another extraction, another (failed) mission. We tried our best, like always. But there is no defence against such insatiable fury as those creatures poses. I know that behind us, they are glassing the planet; boiling its surface to brittle, ruined vitrified wastes.  Another casualty, in a string of many.

But right now, at this moment, I choose not to think about any of that. I can’t.

We are alive. We made it. He made it. I made it.

His gauntlet-clad finger is cold against my chin, as his warm breath caresses my lips. I inhale the scent of sweat, blood and dirt. He edges closer to me, his Mjolner armor-clad hip clunking dully to mine.

What we are doing is not allowed. Yet, no one expects us to have feelings, so who would notice?

He leans against me in such a way, that from behind, he appears to merely be resting, albeit close to me.

Our foreheads meet, and I wonder if mine feels hot or cool against his.

I gaze quietly into his grey eyes a moment, as his lips lightly brush against mine, tasting of salt. I return the gesture, as his mouth forms to give a soft, but feeling kiss.

My lashes fan down, allowing my other senses to heighten in the absence of sight…savoring the feeling, taking thin, grateful comfort in our tender exchange.

We pull apart seconds later. Orders fizz over the COM, as our Pelican approaches for its rendezvous with the waiting warship.

Fred dons his helmet, a faint hiss audible over the thrum of the engines as the suit seals, encasing him in all the safety offered any of us.

Our eyes lock a moment longer, before his face vanishes behind impenetrable gold; polarizing his visor and receding back to that anonymity reserved and embodied by Spartans.

Before he turns away, I catch the Master Chief—John—looking our direction. I know he is looking at me. I gaze at his visor a moment. I know he won’t admonish us. He can’t. Not when he carries the being he loves around with him; even if he won’t admit it.

That godlike, bodiless blue doxy that inhabits the chip imbedded in his neural-interface…Sharing more with him than merely a body.

If he can feel love for an artificial life, then he cannot begrudge me my few moments with Fred…

He looks away, concerning himself with consulting Kelly, Will and the Pelican’s pilot.

I secure my helmet over my sweat-dampened hair. I force myself to relax into the claustrophobic confines which I have never become entirely at ease with. My breaths sounding loud in my ears, as I watch information scroll across my HUD; my suit assuring me of its integrity, of my security.

 There is a dull thud and a soft jolt as we dock with the warship. More orders crackle over the COM.

The Pelican’s hatch whines slowly open. Atmosphere hisses and vents.

Fred’s hand brushes mine. Our armor-encased fingers attempt to twine a moment. He raises his other hand, middle and index fingers shaped into a v. He places them against my helmet, where my mouth would be.

I raise my hand and reciprocate.

We share our ‘smile’ knowing our time is up…

Whatever comes next, whether it is life, or death, we will always remember our moments…

Those few moments, between.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A quick Fred x Linda piece...just to get the idea of them as a pairing out of my system!


End file.
